Expectations
by Kagu-tsuchi-13
Summary: She always imagined that their first time would be amazing and life changing. The thing that she was convinced would define them as a couple. How wrong was she.


Quinn Fabray knew one thing; somewhere in the world, someone, possibly multiple people, had just had amazing sex. Alcohol could have been involved, possibly not. It could have been consensual, or again, possibly not. Quinn didn't know for sure.

But there was one thing that she was sure of. She had just had the most unsatisfying sex of her life. And that included the slightly drunken night that she had shared with Noah Puckerman over three years ago.

She had been sitting in Rachel's bed for an unknown amount of time, though it felt like hours. Covered only by Rachel's hand woven quilt; that was admittedly very warm.

She hadn't said a word to Rachel since the act had gone down and vice versa. No doubt Rachel, like herself, was too embarrassed to speak; something very unlike Rachel Berry; who got humiliated on a daily basis.

"So that's sex," Rachel finally spoke up, breaking the metaphorical wall of silence that had been created after the whole ordeal went down.

"Yep," was all Quinn could think of to respond, her gaze locked onto the painting of a bowl of fruit that hung in the corner.

"It's...something," Rachel declared.

"Yeah, it really is," Quinn responded lamely, finding it very awkward being so close to Rachel while devoid of clothing, which in itself was rather ironic giving the position that they had been in earlier.

Rachel didn't respond, not that Quinn could blame her. It was like being at a family reunion and being forced to make small talk with people you haven't seen in over ten years.

Quinn couldn't stand it. This was supposed to be the pinnacle of their relationship. The moment that defined them as a couple. The thing that she was convinced would ensure that Rachel never went back to men; especially a certain 6'3 intellectually challenged quarterback.

She didn't know what to say or do. It's not like anything she could say would make this better. She did know one thing though, she did not want to stay her another moment.

"Uh, this was nice and all, but I really should be getting home," Quinn stated while reaching over to retrieve her bra from the lamp that it was hanging off of.

"You can spend the night if you want," Rachel offered, her voice very unreadable at the moment.

"Maybe another night," Quinn quickly responded as she fumbled with her clasps. It wasn't like she hadn't spent the night before, fully clothed of course. But at this particular moment, she wanted to be as far away from Rachel Berry as possible.

"Okay, this was nice, by the way," Rachel said, the tone of her voice begging to differ.

Without even looking Quinn could tell that she was disappointed. She just couldn't handle it. Grabbing the rest of her clothes, she muttered a quick goodbye and bolted out of there faster than the time that her, Santana, and Brittany dined and dashed at that Japanese restaurant.

* * *

Despite what she had told Rachel, she had no intention of going home. In her current mood, she would end up doing something reckless like eating a box of doughnuts.

She found herself walking down an unknown street, the cool Ohio air hitting her hard. Pulling her thin jacket tighter, she muscled ahead, hoping to get a chance to clear her mind before she retreated back to her car.

Unintentionally, she found herself thinking back to the big moment and what a disappoint it was. It was surprising to say the least. Nearly every day since she got together with Rachel, she had fantasized about them doing the vertical tango. Keeping it to herself of course, not wanting her new girlfriend to think that she was just in it for sex.

She had imagined them in nearly ever position possible, most that she learned from the internet; a few from the several times that she was unfortunate enough to walk in on her two best friends in the act. (Brittany really needed to start locking her door or putting up a sign.)

Then the big day arrived. She had pulled out all the stops, knowing fully well that her girlfriend needed to be wined and dined. She took her to a very nice restaurant; one that served fancy mineral water and didn't have Dr Pepper. Rachel had been very impressed. Quinn wasn't surprised given that her last beau's idea of a romantic date was the two for twenty at Applebees.

And it didn't stop there. After picking up the check, despite Rachel repeatedly trying to pay half, she took her to the theater to see the show that she had been dying to see. It was magical. When Quinn woke up, she found Rachel in tears.

She ended the evening with a romantic stroll through the park; having wanted to get a carriage but couldn't, mostly because it wasn't the 1800s.

Not that it had mattered, by the time that Quinn had walked Rachel to the door, the girl in question was overwhelmed with emotions.

Quinn could still remember the excitement she had felt when Rachel asked if she wanted to go upstairs and how the two of them ascended inside and up the stairs so quickly and effortlessly you would think that they had both sprouted wings.

Now if this had been a movie or a romance novel, then this would be the point where the two made passionate love that was mind blowing and life changing. But alas, this was neither and things definitely didn't go that way or even close to it.

Not that it had started out badly. In fact, it had start out amazingly with the kissing and the touching and clawing and tearing of each other's clothes off.

Needless to say, everything went downhill from there. For one, neither knew what to do; both only having very unsatisfying sex one time a piece; and with a man to boot.

But Quinn was a trooper. She tried her best to get things going. Though she lacked hands on experience, she had a vague idea of what went on between two woman, curtsy of her two best friends. That and Santana had once crudely demonstrated what two woman did with a Barbie doll and teddy bear.

Quinn tried everything, touching, kissing body parts, grinding, yet nothing seemed to kick start Rachel's sex drive. Not wanting to give up, Quinn continued to flail around, not receiving or giving any sort of pleasure. It was like trying to ballroom dance with Artie.

Finally, mostly in an act of desperation, Quinn took the plunge and went down on her girlfriend. That got a reaction, albeit a small one, out of Rachel, so Quinn continued on, using every tongue trick that she had ever learned in rehersal.

Though no matter how much she wanted to enjoy it and wanted her girlfriend to scream out in ecstasy (which was a lot), Quinn could not keep at it.

Even Rachel grew bored, only occasionally giving off a couple of polite moans; while it was plain as day that she would rather be watching a drama on CBS.

Finally, Quinn's tongue, which was limper than the time that Coach Sylvester made her lick four hundred envelopes, refused to go on any further, and Quinn was forced to slowly remove herself from between her girlfriend's legs and do her best to advert the gaze of a very disappointed Rachel Berry.

* * *

Quinn sighed as she snapped back to the present and started on her way back to her car. There were many days that she would never forget: the day New Directions lost Regionals and she gave birth to Beth, the day that Brittany lost her bikini top at the beach and didn't notice for over twenty minutes, the day that she asked Rachel Berry on a actual, bona fide date and Rachel happily accepted. But none of those would ever compare to this.

* * *

Quinn barely said a word when Santana picked her up for their girl's night out the following afternoon. Only silently climbing into the backseat and buckling up while Brittany jabbered on about how Lord Tubbington sold her Goosebumps books for crack money.

That continued until they got to Breadstix and received their orders. Once the meals were placed in front of them, Quinn changed into a hungry animal, devouring lasagna and rigatoni as if she had just finished a fast, only taking breaks to stuff a whole bread stick in her mouth.

Her two friends looked on in astonishment as Quinn ate like it was her last meal. It was not within her norm. Having been a Cheerio once, Coach Sylvester's had told them to live by the motto: If it tastes good, spit it out. Which according to her also applied to in the bedroom.

"Slow down Q, if you keep eating like that they are going to have to widen the door to let you out," Santana finally spoke up after Quinn started in on another plate.

"Yeah, you aren't eating for six," Brittany added as she finished coloring in the picture of a tiger with the crayons that she got when she ordered off the kid's menu.

Santana turned to Brittany likely to correct her as usual, when her eyes lit up with realization. "Shit, are you pregnant again? What did Gayberry do to you?"

"Calm down," Quinn grunted, downing the rest of her diet soda before continuing, "you aren't far off though."

"I'm confused," Brittany spoke up. "What happens if the groundhog dies? Does it remain winter forever or until they find a new groundhog to tell us that it is Spring."

"What do you mean not far off?" Santana demanded as she scooted her chair closer to Quinn.

Quinn was on the fence of confessing that her first time having sober sex, much less with the person that she had been hopelessly crushing on for over three years, ended in disaster. Then again, they were way more experienced than her in this department. Perhaps, they could offer some words of wisdom. "Well, last night Rachel and I finally.."

"You popped Berry's lesbian cherry?" Santana finished, to which Quinn nodded.

"That rhymes," Brittany giggled.

"So what was the problem? Did Man Hands forget to trim her nails or something?" Santana asked, tapping her manicured nails against her glass as a way of urging Quinn to continue.

"No, it was...terrible," Quinn barely managed to get out. "It was supposed to be the most magical and amazing experience of our coupledom, and all I could think about is how fast I could get downstairs and start the car."

Santana looked indifferent by the revelation. Without speaking, she reached over and picked up her glass of Fresca and took a small sip, set the glass back down, turned to Quinn and burst out laughing.

Quinn sneered at her friend, who continued to laugh as if someone had just told her the most hilarious joke ever. She hoped that Santana would be sympathetic, say that everything was going to be okay. Then again, this was Santana Lopez. If you were drowning, she would hand you a bowling ball so you would sink faster.

"Are you done yet?" Quinn asked, highly annoyed that her so-called best friend found her botched sexual attempt to be amusing.

"Nah," Santana managed to say between laughing fits, "I have to tweet this."

She pulled out her phone, only for Quinn to snatch it from her hands and hold it out of her reach. "Do, and I will make sure that you don't live long enough for it to be re-tweeted."

Santana opened her mouth, only to receive a glare that indicated that Quinn was not fucking around. Keeping quiet for once, she scooted her chair away from the girl who had a vein throbbing in her forehead.

"I don't see what the big deal is. Tana was lousy our first time," Brittany spoke up, making both girls turn to her.

"You don't have to lie to spare her feelings, Brit," Santana said, patting her shoulder lightly.

"I'm not lying, you sucked. I was so afraid that I was going to upset you I faked it."

Quinn perked up a bit. This was an interesting turn of events.

"Our first time was amazing. You kept calling out for me to not stop," Santana argued, looking to be on the verge of losing it.

"Oh God, please don't stop," Brittany recited in a very monotone voice.

Quinn looked over at Santana, who looked as if she was just told that she was adopted and that Coach Sylvester was her biological mother. Quinn did the only decent thing in this situation; she reached over and finished Santana's ravioli for her.

* * *

"Give me another," Santana grunted at the bartender.

"Don't you think that you have had enough?" he asked as he wiped the counter.

"He's right, you already had three," Quinn agreed, looking up from her glass.

"I'll tell you when I have had enough," Santana snapped back, her voice more icy and sinister than usual.

"Fine, your funeral," the bartender exclaimed as he threw his rag down and retreated to the kitchen. "Another order of french fries coming up."

"Come on San, infecting your arteries with trans fat won't change the fact that your girlfriend thought that you were lousy in bed," Quinn pointed out as she slurped up the rest of her Diet Dr Pepper.

"Shut it, last I checked, you weren't exactly Casanova in the bedroom."

"Don't remind me," Quinn sighed as she reached for one of Santana's fries, only to get her hand stabbed at with a straw.

"Hands off," she snarled, making Quinn stick out her tongue.

Quinn was about to consider ordering her own when her phone started lighting up. Santana snatched it up before she could check to see who it is.

"The Dwarf is calling you," Santana stated as she held the device up so that the screen was visible.

"So she is," Quinn responded as she snatched the object from her hand and tapped ignore in one swift motion. This had been the fifth time that Rachel had called and the fifth time that Quinn had hit ignore.

"You can't keep avoiding her forever," Santana pointed out while smacking the catsup bottle. "Believe me, I have tried. She is like herpes. Just when you think she is gone for good she reappears."

"Please don't compare my soon to be ex with a sexually transmitted disease," Quinn requested as she rose up. "I would like to enjoy these last few hours before I am dumped."

Santana rose up as well, just as the bartender stuck another plate of fries down; making her instantly cling to her bar stool. "Good look with that," she responded as she picked up the season salt.

"You are going to hate yourself in the morning," Quinn informed, though it fell on deaf ears as her friend resumed stuffing her face.

* * *

Quinn received six more calls that night as well as ten text messages and two emails; she half-expected a carrier pigeon to fly into her window.

None of the messages said that Rachel wanted to break up with her, just that they needed to talk. Then again, only a jackass of the highest caliber would dump someone that way. Not to mention, Rachel loved making big dramatic scenes. Quinn wouldn't be surprised if Rachel stopped in the middle of the hallway and did a number from Les Miserables.

Quinn almost didn't come to school the next day. However, figuring that she couldn't keep avoiding her until graduation; they did have Glee after all, she decided to face her head on.

She found herself taking baby steps to Rachel's locker. It was hard to believe that she was dreading seeing Rachel Berry. This must be what everyone else in Glee felt like.

Eventually, she spotted Rachel's silky brown hair and smooth legs. She likely would have chickened out had she not been spotted as well. Before she could even react, she found herself being smouldered.

"I have been trying to get a hold of you since yesterday, I thought that something terrible happened," Rachel said, her voice filled with concern as she squeezed Quinn with her tiny arms.

"I know," Quinn responded, trying but failing to keep the bitterness out of her voice as she spoke.

"What's wrong, Gingersnap?" Rachel asked as she pulled away and looked up with her large brown eyes.

"I got your texts," Quinn sighed, forcing herself to turn away to avoid breaking down. "I know what you want to talk about."

"You do? I am so glad, I thought this was going to be awkward," Rachel responded, sounding surprisingly cheerful.

Quinn was a bit upset. She was hoping for some tears, possibly a heartfelt speech, yet Rachel seemed almost happy. Quinn hoped to God that she was just putting on a brave face.

She mustered up all the courage she had to look Rachel in the eyes, cleared her throat a few times and started, "I know, you want to break up. Listen, I think if we-."

"Who said that I wanted to break up?" Rachel interrupted, her tone suggesting that she was hearing the idea for the first time.

"You did, that's what you wanted to talk about, since we are so incompatible," Quinn informed, before lowering her voice, "in the bedroom."

Rachel started giggling. Quinn was confused and a little bit angry. Was Rachel happy that they couldn't procreate, so to speak. Well, that wasn't really the right word, seeing as they were lacking half the equipment to make babies.

Wait! Was Rachel wanting to break up? Was this just the excuse that she needed to end things? Now Quinn was losing it. She should have known that it was too good to be true. How could she ever think that she could ever date someone like Rachel Berry; with that sexy pout and those legs...

"Uh, Quinn?" Rachel called out, snapping Quinn back to reality.

"I can't believe you want to break up! I know we aren't perfect and I know I suck in the sack," Quinn said, practically sobbing. "But I thought we had something special."

"I never said I wanted to break up," Rachel said, placing her hand on Quinn's shoulder.

Now Quinn was confused. Was Rachel fucking with her head, or was this one of Mr. Schue's weird character building, or even worse, some elaborate scheme by Coach Sylvester to destroy the Glee club once and for all, just as she claimed she was going to do every week.

Quinn looked down at the girl standing in front of her, wanting some answers. "The other night, I couldn't...get you off," she recalled, still feeling some of the shame she felt then.

"It was our first time, it took me at least three tries to nail I Dreamed a Dream," Rachel informed, smiling warmly; most likely imaging herself performing the number.

"Wait, so you don't want to break up, then what were you wanting to talk about?" Quinn asked, wanting her hopefully still girlfriend to be perfectly clear.

"I was just saying, that practice makes perfect. And that if we keep at it, I am sure that we can get it right," Rachel informed, earning a large gasp from Quinn.

"Are you saying what I think you are saying?" Quinn asked, leaning over slightly so they were only lips length apart.

"Come over after dinner so we can get in an early rehearsal," Rachel whispered huskily before their lips met.

It was only a quick peck on the lips; Quinn would have liked it to be longer, but it was close to the time the bell rang. Not to mention, they risked getting stopped by Principal Figgins who would no doubt lecture them on proper hallway etiquette. Which in turn, would cause Rachel to go into lecture mode about the double standards the school had on same sex PDA.

Quinn found herself still grinning long after Rachel and her parted ways for their first class. Nothing outside of finding out someone died or having to do another Journey medley could break her spirits. Later, she would gloat to Santana and possibly Finn, depending on what kind of mood she was in.

But there was still one problem. She had almost ten hours before she would get to rehearse with Rachel again. She had a very strong suspicion that today was going to drag on forever.


End file.
